The Thing With The Ogre
by D Squirrel
Summary: Hank needs a favor from Monroe. WARNINGS: Nick whump (I know you luuuv it), death of a non-major character, funerals, and one itsy, bitsy, really bad pun. Spoilers for Game Ogre.


_**NOTES: **_ Attached to the Change of Atmosphere universe but you don't need to have read those stories to make sense. Just ignore any inconsistencies and we'll get along juuuuuust fine.

_**WARNINGS: **_Nick whump (I know you luuuv it), death of a non-major character, funerals, and one itsy, bitsy, really bad pun. Spoilers for Game Ogre.

() () ()

It was a drizzly Thursday afternoon when Hank showed up at his door. His first thought is that something's gone wrong with Nick injuries because he can't imagine why else Hank would be here during work hours. As it turns out, he's there because of Monroe's real job.

Hank pulled a familiar plastic evidence bag out of his jacket. "With Stark dead and the paperwork wrapped up Captain said I could take this."

Monroe held the watch with gentle hands. Even desecrated it was a beautiful piece.

"Mary Robinson's funeral is on Saturday. I know that isn't much time." He shrugged self-consciously, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I wanted to give it back to her mother. Thought maybe if you could get the glue out…."

"Of course." Pulling the stool over to his table he perched on it and took the watch out of the bag. "I have a couple solvents I can try." Popping off the back, he studied the glue again then grabbed the dental pick. "If I can get the gears out…." Hesitating he looked over at Hank. "This might take a while."

In the end it took until Saturday morning because he had to order a replacement for a gear he couldn't get loose without ruining. Tucking the new gear carefully into place, he reassembled the rest and wound it. The lovely little watch hesitated then seemed to realize it _could_ move again and did. Snapping the back on, he gave the whole thing a quick polish. Perfect.

He found a gift box, choose the dark green over the white because it seemed more appropriate for the occasion, and pulled off the bow. The cemetery was, or course, across town. By the time he arrived the service was just wrapping up. It was a large crowd, lots of cops in dress uniform, men in dark suits, and women in black dresses. Nick's boss was next to the podium, easily visible over the rest of the crowd.

He couldn't see Hank but he spotted Juliette right away, her hair a bright spot in an otherwise gray, somber day. Portland weather, he thought, was made for funerals. Nick was close by, wrapped in a dark, knee-length coat, uniform cap tucked under one arm.

Monroe lurked in the back until the speeches ended and people began talking amongst themselves then eased through the crowd to Nick's side. Three days after the attack, the Grimm's bruises had deepened to a nasty olive green around purple with sallow yellow edges. He looked tired and cold and Juliette was hovering noticeably. She smiled at Monroe as he approached.

"Hey, Monroe." Nick moved to replace his cap and had to pause to catch a breath,

"I didn't know you were going to be here," Juliette said. "You clean up very nicely."

Monroe felt his face getting hot. He didn't wear the suit often but when he'd bought it he'd gone through the trouble of having it tailored. "I wasn't expecting to be here either."

"Did you know D.A. Robinson?" Nick managed.

"No, no, never met her. Hank asked me to fix the watch that belonged to, um…." He gestured vaguely towards the grave.

Nick looked surprised then nodded in understanding. "Were you able to get it working?"

"Of course." As if he needed to _ask_.

Nick grinned. "I should never have doubted you. Hank was just talking to the Captain a second ago. I don't know where he is now."

"There's John and Petra," Juliette said suddenly. "I'm going to go say hello. Monroe, will you—" She made a significant head gesture towards Nick.

Monroe nodded back and she headed across the grass, wrapping her coat tighter against a sharp gust of wind.

The crowd was starting to thin, people heading for the long line of cars parked along the street.

"You know, I don't need a watchdog." Nick grinned when Monroe made a face because the man _thought_ he was funny. "Been taking care of myself for years."

"Ha," Monroe said. He might have bought it if Nick had been able to take a full breath. Watchdog indeed. "How are things?"

"Some of the guys from the station came over and boarded everything up until we can get the insurance straightened out. Turns out Sergeant Wu is some kind of bizarre nail gun ninja." Nick had a hand pressed to his side. Monroe didn't think he even realized he was doing it. "Juliette's brother is going to come up on Monday to take a look. He knew a couple local companies that do good work."

"And you two?" Monroe asked because he hadn't been thinking about the damage to the house at all.

Nick sighed a little. "Juliette's been having trouble sleeping."

Oh, _Juliette_ was having trouble sleeping.

"This is the second time someone's broken into our _house_. She—If Stark hadn't run—" He broke off, blinking furiously as he stared at the gaping grave separated from them by two rows of chairs and a strip of grass.

"Hey," Monroe said gently. "She's fine, Nick. She's okay and you're okay and, yeah, you should probably consider moving since everyone seems to know where you live, but the house is going to be fine too."

"I don't—is this how it's going to be for the _rest_ of our lives?" His eyes were shiny but when he looked up but his face was dry. "This—people we've known for years are afraid to talk to us now because it turns out they're wesen. Two of our neighbors have moved. How can I ask her to live like _this_?"

Oh man, he was _so_ not good at this sort of thing. Taking a deep breath, he ever so carefully gripped Nick by both shoulders, getting his full attention, and tried to think of something profound. Something…profound. "Nick, buddy, I have no idea."

Nick barked a desperate laugh, wincing and hissing in pain.

"But," Monroe continued, "you should also consider that it's not really your choice. She stuck with you when you thought you were nuts. She took on an _eishexe_ and a _siegbarste_ for you. I doubt you're going to get rid of her."

Nick looked at the sky and huffed out a shaky breath. "She did kick ass didn't she." When he looked at Monroe again he was smiling, fond and proud.

"That she did, buddy."

"Sorry, I'm not very good company today." Nick dredged up another smile, this one a little less wobbly. "I'm blaming it on the pain pills."

Yeah, he'd believe that except he knew Nick well enough by now to know he wasn't taking his pain pills as often as he should. Probably hadn't taken any before coming to the funeral.

They were interrupted by a man and woman in very nice suits stopping to talk to Nick, made bold no doubt by the crowd and the spreading knowledge that Nick wasn't rampaging around Portland killing wesen hither and yon. They were, Monroe thought viciously, more interested in staring at the Grimm and his bruises than conversation.

Nick was pleasant, polite, tugging the brim of his uniform cap down lower to hide his face and carefully ignored the way the woman's face woged into a rabbit several times during the conversation. Monroe chose another tact; glowering until they took the hint and went away.

"They keep doing that," Nick muttered, attempting to button up his coat one handed. "Hank got beat up too but no one's looking at him like he's some kind of freak—" He cut off sharply, jerking at a reluctant button in angry frustration.

Monroe batted at Nick's hand until he stopped and did up the final three buttons himself. "Well, that's because Hank's not—uh, he's a little less pale. The bruises don't show as much. Hey, maybe you should try spray tanning. I hear it's all the rage on Dancing With The Stars."

Nick gave him a narrow eyed look, but there was a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

"Man, you faced down a _siegbarste_ and lived. Of _course_ they want a look at you."

"I didn't do anything," Nick protested. "It was all you and Hank."

"True, I was awesome." He paused for a moment to bask. "But all the wesen community knows is that an ogre went up against a Grimm and the ogre's dead. Not the way the story usually ends."

"Ogre, smogre, I think it's 'cause he's so darn hot in his uniform," Juliette said, sliding an arm carefully around Nick's waist. "They're all jealous."

Nick flushed pink all the way down past his coat collar. "She still hasn't forgiven me for becoming a detective."

"What can I say?" Juliette grinned mischievously. "That patrol uniform fit _very_ well."

Monroe was delighted to find it really was possible for a person to turn tomato red.

"Hey," Hank said, coming up next to him, "you made it."

Monroe pulled out the watch and passed it over. "Sorry it took so long. Getting specialized parts delivered on a Saturday was a trip." It had taken many favors and he was unreasonably pleased that Hank tucked away the box without checking it, trusting the work he'd done.

"Thanks, man." He clapped Monroe on the shoulder. "I owe you."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll send you the bill."

"You do that. Are you two going to the wake?" Hank asked Juliette.

She shook her head. "No, it's getting late. I'm going to take Nick home."

Nick shot Monroe a pleading look, but seemed resigned to being talked over like he was a child. Monroe probably would have protested on his behalf, but Nick was clearly hurting and needed to get off his feet.

"You need help getting to the car?" Hank asked.

"No, no, go ahead. Monroe will help, right, Monroe?"

"Oh, yeah, sure thing," Monroe agreed.

"I'll see you later then." Hank waved as he turned and trotted off.

Juliette slipped her arm through Nick's less injured one and they started through the thinning crowd. The wind was kicking up, shaking the evergreens and rattling the bare branches of the shrubbery. Monroe put himself on Nick's other side to keep him from being bumped, and maybe just a little bit because it put two bodies between him and Nick's boss who was a part of one of the few remaining groups of mourners.

"How's he really doing?" Monroe asked Juliette once they had Nick safely in the car and the door closed.

"Better." She looked at the car. Nick was sitting too straight in the seat, eyes closed, gray faced, and utterly still. "He won't take the pain pills or he will but only a half dose." She turned her face into the wind, letting it blow the hair back from her forehead. "Hank came by yesterday so he actually slept for more than an hour straight but…." She folded her arms tight across her chest, smiling ruefully. "He has nightmares. I keep waking up thinking someone is in the house and then just when I get to sleep Nick wakes up again."

"Do you want me to come over?" Spend the night, guard their door so Nick would sleep and heal and Juliette would lose that tired, pinched expression for a little while.

Juliette nodded, suddenly close to tears. "That would be really great."

He patted her back less awkwardly than he would have a few months ago and ever so carefully squeezed her slender body. He was, he thought as he made his way to his own car, getting better at this sort of thing.

The End


End file.
